A New Mansion
by kompletelykrazykay
Summary: Hetaoni fic attempt. (It didn't get my attention as a writer. It's now a dead piece . . . sorry no updates any time in the near or distant future. But, you know, feel free to read it for the heck or it, or check out my other stories)
1. Chapter 1

_That sound . . . A sort of muffled, half music . . . I've heard that before . . ._

France sits up in a sweat, panting, clenching the sheets. He heard that sound, that music, that alarming warning, before. Once upon a time . . . once upon a time, when he and the others almost died. _That music_ . . . that sound is for the Thing, the Thing that was jokingly called Steve . . .

_Oh no . . ._

France's thoughts suddenly snap into perspective, his fear renewed as the volume of the sound increases. He faintly remembered one of his own visions he received while breaking the clocks.

Steve was at the end of a different hallway than the ones in the mansion. No, it wasn't the haunted mansion. It wasn't even a mansion, just a rather large and expensive house, on the edge of Paris, the house with several flagpoles, all bearing the French flag. Steve stood at the end of the hall, the hall where the bedrooms were. The hall where France was right now.

Suddenly, in the back of his head, the track plays again, getting louder.

France stumbled out of bed, adrenaline pumping through his veins, bolting for the door to lock it. If it was the last thing he could do, he would lock it. He had to. There was no option.

He reached the door, open barely a crack, just in time to get a glimpse of Steve's outside. He carefully closed the door, locking it as securely as he could manage. For comforts sake, he wedged the chair from the corner under the doorknob. He let out a small sigh of relief as the alarming music finally faded.

He sat on the edge of his bed, looking at his phone. Two thirty a.m. glowed across the screen. Despite the hour . . . should he call the other countries? Should he call for an emergency world meeting? No, last time this all started from a world meeting. That would only set the course again . . . but who to call . . .

He couldn't call Italy. Steve seemed to want Italy's blood more than any of the other nations. But, Italy was the one who knew the most about Steve and the effects of the time loops. The important question was if Italy's sanity would be able to pull through this one . . .

Could he call on Prussia for assistance? Prussia was one of his best friends, and was the first nation he came across when he had arrived at the first mansion. But, would he friend be able to help him now?

What about England? He knew the most about ghosts and demons and creatures of the such. Would England, with his dislike of France and knack for black magic, be of any use to France right now? Should he call England?

But Canada held his own before, in this situation. It seemed that Steve couldn't see Canada before, but he still had gotten hurt, hadn't he? Or was that an alternate past?

France hung his head, unsure of what to do. Who should he call? Was Italy really that useless? Would Prussia come to help him? Would England even listen? Could Canada help him?


	2. Chapter 2

**When I stated writing this I meant for it to be a sort of "Choose your own adventure" but when I reviewed the guidelines I discovered that that was against the rules! So instead it's just a whole bunch of mental and rhetorical questions as France tries to get out of his mega mansion-house outside of Paris!**

**Sorry the chapters are so short :/ I had exams this week and didn't get to work on it much. I promise the next chapter will be more interesting!**

* * *

Frustrated, France ran a hand through his long, golden hair. He lay down on his back, staring at the ceiling. He had to call someone. Someone had to help him. But, he knew he would not be able to get out of his massive house on his own. Dare he get someone to help him?

No matter what, Italy was treading on thin water, England would ignore him, and Prussia was just . . . Prussia. Canada couldn't be seen by the Thing. Would Canada be able to get to him, and more importantly, get him out?

Before France can question himself farther, he dials his little brother.

"Hello?" a small, squeaky voice says on the other line.

"Kumajiro," France says, still on edge. "Can you give the phone to Canada?"

"To whom?"

A more distant, muffled voice says, "Who's on the phone?"

Kumajiro asks, "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada," Canada replies, a bit tired of this endless game.

France speaks again, "Can you give the phone to Canada?"

"To whom?" the bear asks again.

"To me!" Canada yells in a normal person's volume. France hears the Canadian grab the phone. "Hello?"

"Canada!" France nearly shouts, relieved to have access to someone. Suddenly the line starts to become fuzzy. "Canada, I need you to come here! Now!" Before France can finish what he was trying to tell Canada, the phone goes dead. "Canada?" Not even an echo replies to him. "Canada!?" Still nothing. "Dammit!" He throws his phone down, frustrated, and turns to look out his window.

His window . . .

France quickly turns around, carefully retrieves the chair jammed in the door, and turns, ready to smash his window, when suddenly -

Since when were there bars outside his window? France slowly puts the chair back against the door.

Why did the Thing have to come back for him? Why not Italy? Or America? Or England? Yes, it should have gone and haunted England's sorry ass!

The music started again. "Where is that coming from?" France mumbles, curling up in the middle of his bed, covering his ears with his pillow, ignoring the dreadful feeling pooling in his stomach. This can't be happening again, no, not again.

_An hour away from Quebec . . ._

Canada walks into the living room to find his bear on the phone. "Who's on the phone?"

He turns to the Canadian, looking confused, "Who are you?"

"I'm Canada," Canada sighs, asking himself why he's still surprised by the question.

A voice with a thick French accent on the other line asks, "Can you give the phone to Canada?"

"To whom?" the bear speaks into the phone again.

"To me!" Canada shouts, wishing his voice would be louder. He blames America for his voice issues. It's America's fault. Canada grabs the phone and held it to his ear, turning his back to the polar bear. "Hello?"

"Canada!" France's voice shouts in his ear. He held the phone away, startled by the volume, and carefully bring it back as France starts talking again. "Canada," the line becomes unclear, "I need . . . um . . ." pieces of his urgent voice come through, the rest lost.

"France?" Canada asks cautiously. "France!" The line goes dead. "I wonder what's happening over there . . ." Canada turns to Kumajiro. "What do you think?"

The bear simply turns to his owner and asks, "Who are you?"

"You're right," Canada hangs his head. "I can't help France, can I? I'm nobody!" He collapses on the couch, staring at the ceiling. "But . . . what if I'm the only person he could call? Maybe I should take a trip over to France's, just to check up on things. But . . . what did he say?" Canada looks up to his bear only to find that it had wandered off, leaving Canada to talk to himself like a lunatic. "Oh . . ."

_"I need . . . um . . ." _What was France trying to say? I need . . . something? I need . . . some? I need . . . hum . . . us? No, now he was just getting ridiculous. What else would make sense? His voice sounded urgent, like something was wrong. What if something was wrong? But what could possibly be wrong?

"I'm going," Canada mumbles to himself. He gets up, ignoring the polar bear that watches him, and shrugs on his jacket. He trudges into the snow outside and climbs into his car, bringing it to life with a quiet purr.

A few hours later, he arrived in Paris, and immediately headed to France's mega house just outside the city. _I hope I haven't taken too long . . ._

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**I barely got this up before midnight! Gr, my internet is spazing out! I hope it isn't Steve messing with me . . .**_  
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**Reviews are greatly appreciated!**

*****I felt the need to mention that the actual country Canada has made military advancements on making a real life invisibility cloak.*****


	3. Chapter 3

**I'm so sorry I don't upload these until it's almost not Friday anymore! I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry! DX**_  
_

**Anyways, Canada is just arriving in Paris to see what happened to France while France has had hours, cornered in his room with an old musket. **

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_Just outside of Paris . . ._

France waits, holding the musket that was mounted on his wall, for hours. _Canada is far away_, he reminds himself. _It will take a few hours . . ._ But every time France senses the Thing outside her door, his heart stops, and he tenses, waiting for that alien-like monster to pass by.

The music only gets louder in France's head. It reaches full volume, and stays there, pounding with his heart. Suddenly, the door disappears.

The Thing was back, massive, alien-like. It's pale skin seemed to glow as it slowly proceeded towards France. Fifteen feet away. Twelve. Ten. France looks down the shaking barrel of the musket. Five. France's finger tightens around the trigger.

But he's too late.

_Just arriving in Paris . . ._

Canada jumped in a cab, giving them quick directions that they could barely hear. But Canada didn't care. He just knew that he had to get there. He had to get to France. He had to. He ran out of the cab as soon as if slowed, storming through the gates.

"Hey, dude!" A voice screamed behind him. Canada stopped, and turned around. Walking up the sidewalk, towards the main gate, was America.

"A-America!" Canada gasped. "W-What are you doing here?"

America took a bite out of his burger, "Oh, you know, I saw you leave and thought I'd tag along. You're Canada, right?"

"Yes, you id-"

"So why you coming to France's?"

Canada sighed, "Well, France called me, and the message started to break up. He sounded like he might be in trouble . . ."

"Well if he's in trouble, I'm just the guy to help you!" America yells obnoxiously. "I'm the hero!"

"Yes, you are," Canada rolls his eyes, and starts into the house, quietly leading America, although he would say he let Canada go first.

"I'll go this way!" America took off.

Canada sighed again, "But . . . shouldn't we check France's room first? Um, America?" But, America was already gone. Oh well.

Canada carefully made his way towards the hall where the bedrooms were, willing him to be invisible, only to be greeted by the musical alarm of Steve. The Thing. Walking up the hall, coming out of France's room, the gray creature emerges. Canada freezes. Steve slowly stalks towards the spot where Canada stands, ignorant to his existence.

"M-Maple . . ." Canada squeaks. _I'm the carpet, no, I'm the wall, no, no, no, the air! Yes, I'm the air, I'm the air, I'm the air, I'm the air . . ._

The thing walks past Canada, continuing to other places of the mega house, small mansion. Canada bolted to the room the Thing came out of. A gunshot sounded somewhere behind him.

Is it possible he was still too late? Is it possible his own brother just tossed himself into danger? Is it possible that he just lost two of the most important people in his life? And is it even slightly possible that they are still alive? Canada recalled what the Thing, Steve, could do. Last time, he nearly killed everyone. Would he be this generous this time?

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**I know this is short (again) so, of course, I'm suffering from that common thing called writers block, and babysitting my little brother, and getting easily distracted. **

**SO I'm sorry if the suspense is lacking, I just really want to upload something every Friday (even if it's just six hundred something words) It'll get better (I hope)**


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